Chapter 2: Under the Harsh Light of Scrutiny

Candles in the window. That is the customary symbol seen on Reaping Night. As a product, candles and the accompanying candlewax are prohibitively expensive, so that most families, especially in the Seam, are fortunate to own just one, maybe two. Every year, the night after the Reaping, District 12 is filled with light, piercing the darkness. When a family sets a candle in the window on this evening, it serves to signify that your household has been passed over. That you and yours, your children, were not picked. Safe for another year.

The only exceptions are the two households of the tributes who were picked. Their windows are always darkened, the blackness signifying deep mourning.

This year, the Everdeen household is one of those whose threshold has been darkened.

I'm all at once dismayed by and glad for the absence of candlelight. The glow would weaken my eyes, making me cry harder than I already have been for the better part of today. I do miss the candle's warmth, though. Just as much as I miss the person who normally handled the candles. In past years, before she was old enough to be Reaped, it was Primmy's job to set the candle in our window, signifying if not her safety then at least mine. I sailed through four Reapings myself before today…. and skipped this one.

I shudder against the unseasonable chill of this summer evening. I wonder how long it will take for the Peacekeepers to haul Gale and I in on charges of absence from Mandatory attendance? Likely in the next day or two. My tremors only get worse as I ponder what the punishment will be. I've never known anyone to skip Mandatory Attendance or Viewing, not in my lifetime. The punishment must be deterrent enough. Even if I did miss the Reaping by accident, that won't matter to the Peacekeepers. Whatever the punishment is, I'm fairly positive I'll soon find out. You do the crime, you do the time. And Cray likely can ill afford anything that would make him look weak… such as not punishing offenders. I can only hope that with Gale at my side, maybe it won't be so bad.

I pull my knees up to my chest where I am sitting at our darkened window, staring out into the gloom punctuated by bobbing buoys of candlelight. Aside from Reaping Night, the only other time that one sees candles in the window is the evening after a couple gets married at the Justice Building. The night of their Toasting. It is sacred tradition for a newlywed husband and wife to stoke a fire over their hearth, then toast a bit of bread over the flames and share it. Then the bride sets a lit candle in the window. Of course, it's the signing of papers at the Justice Building that makes one wed in the eyes of the district law, but no one in Twelve feels truly married without a Toasting.

I curl into myself all the more, shivering, as I chance a glance at the silhouetted outline of the stairs, barely discernible in the gloom of our home. Mother retired to bed hours ago, emotionally drained and exhausted. If she was depressed after Daddy died, she will be downright catatonic in the coming weeks watching her baby girl fight to the death and likely perish.

I'm about ready to nod off right here myself. I think I nearly do, for I'm startled by a firm knock on our door. Rising, the hem of my blue Reaping dress swishing at my ankles, I cross into the foyer to our front door and open it. I grimace when I see the white plates of a Peacekeeper's uniform.

I lean against the doorjamb, wary. "May I help you?"

"Katniss Magenta Everdeen?"

I wince harder at the invocation of my full name, my given Covey name. The tradition of my father's ancestors has been to always name their daughters after the plants of the earth and the colors of the rainbow. My sister, for example, is Primrose Cyan. Gale's mother has always gone by her middle name: Hazelle. "That's me," I whisper.

"Is the lady of the house present?"

"My… my mother's asleep. We've had a very trying day, Officer."

The cadet's lip curls. "I'm sure. You will come with us, miss. To the Justice Building straightaway. We have some questions regarding your whereabouts and what happened this morning."

I suppress a sigh. And here we go. I was hoping Gale and I would get a night's reprieve, at least.

"I advise you wake your mother and inform her where you are going, Miss Everdeen."

"She's asleep…" I protest weakly. I daren't refuse or talk back to an officer of Panem, as much as anger is now boiling my blood. "Can I at least leave a note?"

The officer gnashes his teeth, finally huffing. "Yes, all right, then. You may."

I gratefully turn and bustle about my blackened house, finding a spare bit of paper and pen. By the light of the full moon, I hastily scrawl out a note to Mother, explaining where I am in case she wakes up and finds me gone or I'm not back before the morning… which I probably won't be.

Stealing back into the foyer, I take Mother's shawl and curl it about my shoulders. The Peacekeeper nods, satisfied. "Let's go." But instead of cuffing me as expected, he instead gallantly, if perhaps grudgingly, offers me his arm. I have little choice but to accept it, as he escorts me down to the Justice Building.

I'm surprised, but grateful; to see Gale waiting in the interrogation room for me once I've been frog marched into the Justice Building. I've only been in the district seat of government a handful of times, including now and this morning saying goodbye to my sister. The few other times I can recall are when I was a little girl – the day I accepted a medal for valor on behalf of my father from Mayor Undersee, and also the day I signed up for tesserae to keep my family from starving.

Seeing my arm looped through that of the Peacekeeper cadet, Gale stiffens, looking like he wants to leap out of his chair and spoil for a fight just to defend my honor. I shake my head imperceptibly, telling him to leave it. All told, this officer and his accompanying partner exhibited great restraint – the officers in Twelve have never been the physical, vengeful sort. In fact, the officer on my arm even deigns to pull out my chair for me. I tuck my blue skirts back and sit daintily, trying to exude the composure of a proper district lady.

"Are you all right?" Gale whispers to me.

"Yes," I hiss back. "I'm amazed they're not questioning us separately."

"Oh, we detained and interrogated Mr. Hawthorne before your arrival, Ms. Everdeen." Across the table from us, Cray is slumped tiredly in a chair. The bright glare from a wall lamp only accentuates the harsh lines of age in his face. "It was brought to my attention that, given the upheaval your family experienced this morning, execution of a warrant for your arrest should be carried out with sensitivity." He nods heavily in the direction of the Peacekeeper leaning in the back corner of the room. From the flash of red hair, I recognize him as Darius, a particularly kind officer I've come to know while bartering in the Hob. Classically handsome, Darius is known to be a shameless flirt; he's flirted with me a few times, offering illicit kisses. I've always taken his propositions as a joke more than anything else.

I arch a surprised eyebrow, trying not to reveal how much my heart is pounding. "So you are arresting me?"

"As a matter of course," Cray sighs, hunching over the desk while shuffling some papers. "Now, my deputies could not recover any evidence of illegal poaching on Capitol lands – wherever you hid your ill-gotten gains, you hid them well."

Gale and I share a surreptitious look. Once it had become apparent that the fence was on, it had been Gale's idea to ditch our game in one of our many favorite hiding places, as well as our bows. Daddy used to hide his bows in hollow logs, and I've continued the practice.

"However, I can still book you for being beyond Twelve's borders; Mr. Hawthorne here has just confessed…"

I lean into my hunting partner. "Why would you do that?"

He looks sad. "It was the only way to explain why we were late."

"Which brings me to the next point – an unexcused absence from a Mandatory Attendance event," Cray drones on. "We, of course, have no record of any blood samples from either of you which proves you were not in the Square today at the appointed time. Any boycotting of any Mandatory Attendance or Mandatory Viewing is a Class II felony under the district law, and therefore warrants a prison sentence at the bare minimum." Lifting his eyes to us, Cray cocks one eyebrow, but the look on his face is more exasperated, can't-be-bothered than anything else. Certainly not angry, more… annoyed. He sighs. "Also, given that this occurred on one of the holiest days of the year, I feel I have no choice but to go further in order to make an example of you two."

My blood turns to ice. What would Cray actually do…? He wouldn't… In the time of my parents and grandparents, they say that the predecessor to Cray made whippings and sentences in the stockades quite routine. But these instruments of punishment had fallen into disrepair by the time Cray was appointed, which eventually gave way to disuse. I know such measures used to be installed in the Square, once upon a time. Cray wouldn't erect a new stocks or whipping post just to make examples of Gale or me… would he?

Back in his corner, Darius is tssking regretfully, shaking his head. "Honestly, Hawthorne, if you were a better liar, you could have just said you had this little honey out back of the Slag Heap! Ain't no shame in losing track of time over that! We would have been more understanding!" And he sends a saucy wink in my direction.

Cray sighs in a very put-upon way. "Officer Freeman – please…."

I flush fuchsia, a combination of affronted and mortified. "Gale… Gale and I have never been to the Slag Heap. Never."

"Shame," Darius drawls, turning his head to meet Gale's eye. "If I was you, I would remedy that straightaway, son. Show her a good time."

"If you don't mind, Officer!" Cray growls, exasperated. Darius just shrugs, still smirking. I reserve my best scowl for him, as he's so clearly enjoying this.

"Now: to penalties. Felony for being outside the boundaries of the district alone constitutes two days held in the garrison here in the Justice Building, at a minimum… with bail." Cray makes a sour face, like he would prefer to not post bail. But he has to follow the law. He folds himself over the desk, gnarled fingers steepling in deep thought.

"Penalty for missing Mandatory Attendance – missing the Reaping…. that is another matter. I'm trying to figure out… what to do with you two in regards to that." He sighs regretfully once more. "Such a public flouting of the law brings a great deal of embarrassment onto my head, Miss Everdeen, Mr. Hawthorne. I honestly expected better of you. If I could work my will, you would both be remanded to stand for a make-up Reaping at a later year. However, the Charter of the Hunger Games is clear: no young man or woman who has exceeded the age of eighteen years shall be eligible for the arena. So I've been forced to accept another solution:" He turns to me, hands still steepled so that he looks almost diplomatic. "Miss Everdeen, seeing as you are still of Reaping age until the summer after next, additional slips with your name shall be submitted into the Reaping Bowl. 10 slips, for each of your remaining years of eligibility seems sensible and commensurate, in addition to the tesserae grain you already receive for your family."

I gulp. I've had three extra slips with my name in the Reaping Bowl every year since I turned twelve. This morning, there were 20 slips alone bearing my name. What if my name, not Prim's, had been called, and I had failed to appear? I imagine the consequences would be even worse. I calculate the math in my head. With the influx Cray is proposing, I'll have 48 slips in the bowl, rather than just 28, by the time I turn eighteen. I can only nod, resigned. "I understand," I say in a small voice.

Cray then turns his attention to Gale. "As for you, young man…. seeing as you've aged out of the Reaping as of today, I can't hold you to the same sentence. However, I understand you have applied to be on the digging crew at Abernathy Mine?"

"Yes, sir. I've already spoken with the Foreman," Gale states. I can detect the barest hint of wariness in his voice.

Cray nods once stiffly, his jaw set. "Well, then double shifts should get you acclimated to your new situation quite nicely. I'll tell Foreman Stalag to keep you on that schedule from now until the Games are over. Is that clear, Mr. Hawthorne?"

Steam is practically coming out of my hunting partner's ears, yet he manages to grind out, "Transparently."

"Good," Cray clips coolly. "Can't have every other eighteen-year-old thinking they can be this clever, skipping their last Reaping. We should be so lucky more haven't as yet thought of it." He stands brusquely, gathering his papers. "Officer Freeman, Officer Bingham, please escort the prisoners to the garrison for the night. In separate cells; we don't want to hear them shagging like rabbits behind bars – they'd wake the whole Justice Building!"

My face is burning with outrage again, as Darius takes me by my elbow apologetically. His smile is truly sheepish as he escorts me gently out of the holding room and down the polished hallways of the Justice Building.

"The garrison is in the rear of the building, Miss Everdeen; it's only a couple of cells. The accommodations aren't that bad, all in all…"

As the punishment for my crime begins to sink in, I start to panic, despite Darius's assurances that the amenities of a jail cell will not be rough. "My… my mother… I left a note, expecting to be back…"

"I'll pay a welfare call in the morning, and explain the situation, ma'am," Darius smiles at me kindly. "I know your mother's been sick. Not to worry, you'll be out of here in 48 hours, possibly sooner, if she posts bail."

"And how much will that be?"

"Up to the Head Peacekeeper. We don't have standards for bail. Some pay in coin, some pay in sesterces."

Behind us, I hear Gale snort. "Highway robbery, Catnip. They'll steal us blind!"

"Bail postings are fair and commensurate with the crime, Mr. Hawthorne!" Darius's tone is unusually stern, admonishing; he even turns nearly all the way around to frown hard at my friend.

We finally are guided into the hallway at the rear of the building. I've never been this deep into the district seat before. We even passed the District Clerk's office, as well as the chambers for the District Justice of the Peace. I know that the former is where many engaged couples go to get married, sign their wedding license.

Five cells line the right wall of this hallway. All of them appear empty, except for the one at the far end, darkened in the corner. The lumpy shape of a human form is swaddled under a blanket on a cot.

Gale is locked in the cell next to this darkened one. Three more down, at the opposite end of the row, is where I'm placed. This is to be my cell for the night, and almost certainly two nights after.

The metal doors shut with a clang. Darius smiles at me sadly through the bars. "Nothing personal, Miss Everdeen. Just business. And for what it's worth, you and Hawthorne here are getting off real easy – trust me." Jail keys dangling, he ambles away.

With two whole empty cells between us, Gale and I look at each other. He shrugs, huffing. "Good night." And he curls up onto his cot, facing the wall.

I lay down on my cot, knees pulled up to my stomach. I wouldn't want to be Mother come tomorrow, once she learns that both of her daughters are prisoners of the government this night.

Although, I know without a doubt that, wherever she is on a train bound for the city, as prisoners go, my little Primrose has it far worse.